


Drums of Ruin

by Venutian



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Gen, Giant/Tiny, Protective, Shrinking, Vore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29837673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Venutian/pseuds/Venutian
Summary: Mary sent Anna into London during a shrinking epidemic, which has quite possibly ruined the woman's life. Mary must prove that she does have a heart and try to fix some of the damage she's caused.
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place sometime near the beginning of the final season, but before Anna gets pregnant.
> 
> Well I got carried away with the backstory for the original idea, which means that Chapter 1 is going to be regular giant/tiny content, and the vore is actually in Chapter 2.
> 
> This is incredibly niche, I know lol. And I realize I am dropping this into a fandom which has--and I mean this in the best way possible--some of the most normal fanfic I've ever read so I am sorry about this. A couple of weeks ago I finished watching the show and because I loved it so much, I decided to commemorate it the best way I know how :)

Anna’s day had begun the way most of them do: with a request from Lady Mary. She had wanted Anna to go a particular shop in London and pick up a birthday gift for Mary’s mother, the very lovely Lady Grantham. Someone had to go and get it because the party was the following day; there had been no time for the gift to arrive by mail. Mary wouldn’t do it herself, of course. Nobody in their right mind would go to London in the middle of a shrinking epidemic, even if they _were_ allowed (and the family are not). The servants aren’t even supposed to go, but there are some jobs which cannot operate without the occasional trip to town.

And so Anna had been sent. Whether or not she had _wanted_ to go is of no consequence; it’s her job as a lady’s maid to run errands for Mary, no matter how ridiculous. The trip had started out uneventful, and Anna had actually sort of enjoyed the train ride over. However, her journey had turned sour shortly after she had arrived in London, when she’d caught her first glimpse of the diseased (there has to be a better way of referring to them, but she doesn’t usually read the newspaper). Tiny little things, human in appearance but not behavior as they scampered all over the dirty streets, dodging feet and wheels and just about everything else. It had been a strange sight, almost like something from a story. Not a fairytale, though. For every living diseased, there had to be at least three dead ones. Corpses had littered the gutters, some of them whole, others just bits and pieces. Absolutely sickening. Anna had rushed to the shop with carefully raised eyes, eager to finish her task and then hurry back to Downton.

Hurrying along blindly had maybe not been the best idea. Eyes raised as they had been, she hadn’t seen the stone out of place on the sidewalk. She’d tripped, falling ungracefully on the sidewalk with a heavy thud. Embarrassing as it’d been—onlookers had even come to ask if she was alright—she had come away with only a scraped hand. The real nasty bit had been that she’d put her palm down right in the middle of a pool of drying blood, a likely dead shrunken person not far away. Disgusting! A very kind gentleman had offered her a handkerchief and shed taken it, wiping the mess away the best she could. With reddened ears she’d tucked her blonde hair back into place and had continued on her quest. She had picked up the parcel from the shop and then had made it back to Downton without any further incident.

Anna places the package on top of Lady Mary’s bed, hoping that the other woman doesn’t ask about London. She won’t lie to her, if it’s news Mary wants, but Anna would rather the horrors go unaddressed. Mary doesn’t say anything at all. She just sits in front of her dressing table, watching Anna idly, vacant expression in her eyes. Has she been up in her room all day? Anna tries to remember if there is any drama that’s occupying Lady Mary. Perhaps something pertaining to her latest beau? It’d be impertinent to ask.

“I didn’t get a chance to look at it before they wrapped it.” Anna breaks the quiet to apologize, though it isn’t her fault. Nonetheless, if there’s a problem with the product, she does not want any blame for being negligent.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s fine.” Mary waves, not the least bit concerned. They say nothing more of Anna’s outing, which is a relief. “Well, you’re already here, let’s just get ready for dinner now.” There’s still an hour before the dinner gong so it’s a bit early for her to be dressed, but Anna appreciates the convenience. After going to London and back, she’s looking forward to having a quiet moment, having time to get some of her other work done without interruption. Maybe this is Lady Mary’s way of thanking her for taking on the risky task.

As Anna goes to fetch Mary an evening dress, a wave of tiredness washes over her. It’s an exhaustion that seeps down to her bones and she sighs, eyes drooping as she picks something for Mary to wear. She hopes it’s only that she’s worn out from the train ride and not the onset of something more serious; she doesn’t have time to get sick one day before a dinner party. Anna’s symptoms worsen rapidly, congestion swelling up her head as she helps Lady Mary into the dress.

“Your hand!” Mary catches Anna’s wrist as she is smoothing the fabric that covers Mary’s shoulders. She turns Anna’s hand palm-side up, exposing the angry red marks on the heel. It’d bruised further since her careless misstep back in London and admittedly is a bit unsightly. Anna hasn’t had time to bandage it, though she’d at least had the sense to wash the blood off before she’d come up.

“It looks worse than it is. I should have been more careful.” Eager to move the conversation away from herself, Anna motions towards the chair at the dressing table. Mary sits, and Anna begins to brush through the woman’s short, dark hair. She is working on styling it when lightheadedness strikes Anna. She draws a sharp breath in, dropping the brush on the table with such a clatter that makes Lady Mary jump.

“I’m sorry, Milady, I…” Anna means to dismiss herself, staggering backwards towards the door, but can’t even finish her sentence as white spots appear in her vision, complete dizziness flushing in. Her knees buckle and she collapses sideways onto the wood flooring, spots turning to stars as they swim around her eyes. Darkness falls. It’s not a peaceful darkness, somewhere between unconsciousness and not. Her body writhes as it twists itself into something new. She is aware of the ground vibrating beneath her, aware of the air vibrating above her, aware of the aching present in every part of her body. The pain means she’s still alive—for now, at least. She needs to go down to the servant’s hall and see about calling for the doctor.

With this thought in mind, Anna opens her eyes. She’s been rolled onto her back, which she doesn’t object to, except that it means the first thing she sees is Lady Mary. Lady Mary looming over her, her fair face as wide as the ceiling should be. Brows knit, glossy lips slightly parted, an air of concern dripping from her. Large brown eyes stare down at Anna and Anna stares back, able to see almost the entirety of herself in their reflection. The word comes to her with a flutter of her heart. Giant. Anna stares back into the face of a giant.

“Anna?” Lady Mary’s voice thunders overhead, so loud that Anna flinches. The words painfully reverberate through her throbbing skull. She barely hears what was even spoken. _Giant,_ she thinks again, the blood draining from her face. The room spins around the both of them. A very large room, Anna notes haplessly. She supposes it would have to be large if it’s to be big enough for a- no, that isn’t right. Lady Mary isn’t a giant. Even through the disorientation, Anna knows the truth. She’s shrunk. “Sorry,” Mary’s voice is softer this time, hushed. It sweeps over Anna like a great gust of wind, violent in the way that it encompasses her. Not harmful, but powerful. “That must’ve been terribly loud for you. Are you-” Her words continue but it’s all too much too quickly, the sounds boring their way through Anna’s mind in a jumbled, nonsensical soup.

Ignoring Lady Mary, Anna sits up, bracing herself on weak, wobbling arms. The pain has faded to a dull tingling of her skin, replaced instead with disorientation and nausea, her eyes watering as she tries to adapt to the change in perspective. Everything looks warped, distorted. Mostly, and maybe thankfully, Anna’s view of the bedroom is blocked by the cascading waves of fabric of Lady Mary’s dress. It’s a matte sort of cream color, glittering with golden sequins, hanging loosely off Mary’s body as she leans forward and bunching neatly around the wooden floor where she kneels. Funny, Anna hadn’t paid much attention to the dress when she’d fetched it, nor when she’d fastened it over Lady Mary’s shoulders. Being small has a funny way of forcing her to see the smaller details, she supposes.

Anna follows the flow of the dress upward, has to crane her neck to look once more at the face of the woman towering over her. Lady Mary has stopped talking and is now silently watching Anna’s movements with the same nervous energy with which one might watch a spider in the garden. It’s apprehension; an emotion which Anna shares. There is a tickle in the back of her mind which tells her how easy it would be to be swept away, a flick of the wrist and be tossed, or be squashed, or be put out with the trash, done away with. It wouldn’t take any effort at all. Anna shudders, the images running wild through her mind. _No_ , she screams to herself, locking those visions away. This isn’t fair. Mary can be unkind, yes, but her weapon is her tongue, not her fist. Or her shoes, for that matter. And anyways, she wouldn’t hurt Anna, has never even aimed sharp words towards her. Anna has nothing to fear. It isn’t Lady Mary’s fault that she looks so imposing now, not really.

Even so, as the dark-haired woman continues to kneel on the floor, she seems so impossibly _huge_ and it’s hard not to find that a little frightening. Mary is certainly taller than anything Anna has ever seen. If Mary were to stand, she’d be taller than the largest tree, taller yet than the tallest building in all of London. It’s almost overwhelming. The sickening part is that it isn’t just Lady Mary, _everyone_ is that tall now, perhaps even taller. Anna is so very small now, hopelessly, helplessly so. A panic rises within her, rattling her senses, tears pricking at her eyes. Her entire future washed away in an instant.

“You had me worried for a moment,” Mary starts talking again, her words finding Anna even through the fog inside her mind. “It wouldn’t be the first time someone dropped dead in my bedroom.”

“Mary!” Anna gasps, a sense of reality snapping back to her as she is unwillingly reminded of the scandal that she’d helped Mary cover up, many years ago. Shock is quite possibly Mary’s intention, and it’s worked to draw her back from the edge of panic. It’s not something they should be joking about, and yet, it _is_ funny. A smile finds her and the larger woman grins in return, sitting back on her heels. This gives Anna some welcome breathing room. She doesn’t have to look up quite as far, which is a good, as her neck is quickly tiring. It’s going to take some building up of strength to be able to look up at people all the time.

“I wouldn’t worry about this. The cure will be along in no time at all.” _Easy for you to say_ , Anna thinks ruefully, but she doesn’t dare voice those thoughts. She may have just shrunk, but she hasn’t lost her position, at least not officially yet, and it will do her no good to be rude to her employer. And anyways, for all she knows, Mary might be right. It isn’t _hopeless_ ; top scientific minds all around the world are working on the cure, even as they speak. It might even be solved next week! Anna is just going to have to stay positive about it the same way she’d managed to keep positive during her wrongful imprisonment. That had been much worse, surely. She very much doubted that Lady Mary was going to lock her away in a tiny cell.

“I’m sure you’re right.” Anna agrees politely, her voice wavering, “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to keep this quiet, at least until after tomorrow.” Lady Grantham’s dinner party will still be happening, and she doesn’t want to detract from that. Everyone downstairs has been working so hard on the finishing touches; they can’t lose focus now. Lady Mary nods along to this, considering the proposition. She’s no stranger to secrets, though she’s not exactly known for keeping them.

“Won’t Bates want to know?” At the mention of her husband, John, Anna just winces. He isn’t going to take this very well. Really, he’d probably find some way to blame himself for it.

“He can’t. I might be contagious and we both know he won’t be able to keep himself away.” John would just as soon get himself sick, fussing over her. And then they’d both small and no more the better for it.

“I don’t think Papa would get much use out of a tiny valet.” Lady Mary agrees, laughing at the thought of a tiny version of him. Anna doesn’t find it quite so funny.

“You’re not going to get much use out of _me_ either. I’m not sure I can even lift a nail file.”

“I’m sorry.” Mary sobers, sensing Anna’s distress. “Let’s not worry about that now. Are you feeling well enough to travel? We should get you to Doctor Clarkson and make sure nothing else can be done.” That nothing else can be done, Anna is fairly certain. If something could be done, there wouldn’t be a lockdown imposed on the house. There wouldn’t be so many tiny people out dying on the streets of London. Anna also doesn’t like the thought of being scrutinized, even by the professional eyes of Doctor Clarkson. But it doesn’t matter what she thinks; it’s useless to try and argue with Mary. Anyways, it probably _is_ best to make sure she is still healthy, that everything got scaled down correctly.

“You’re already dressed…”

“I’ll put on a coat. Now-?”

“Yes, I’m feeling fine.” To demonstrate this, Anna stands, her limbs much stronger now than they’d been just a few minutes ago. She’s almost completely adjusted to seeing the world at this new scale and the dizziness has long gone away. It appears the worst of it is over. She looks down at her hands, appraising them. The same old-

A block of color—smooth, silky champagne—comes soaring towards Anna. It’s larger than she is, coming over her entire vision, and she ducks reflexively, throwing her arms out as if she can hold it off. Scenes of being squashed flood her imagination and she squeezes her eyes shut, not wanting to see the bloody end. Nothing touches her. After a moment, Anna dares a peek, looking out at the shimmering mass which shifts between hues of yellow and pink in the sun. _Oh_. It’s… a glove. It’s just Lady Mary, reaching out towards her. That had been a pretty silly reaction, Anna thinks with burning ears. In her defense, it is a rather massive hand, and it’d been speeding right at her with no sign of slowing down, and anyways she hadn’t gotten any sort of warning. Let her keep her reflexes; she has to be on her toes all the time now, vulnerable as she is in this new state.

“Anna.” Lady Mary muses, her hand lingering in the air. She’d thankfully stopped upon seeing Anna’s harsh reaction and hadn’t snatched her up anyways. “I do have to pick you up.”

“Of course.” Anna apologizes and forces herself to straighten, though it’s hard to be brave with all the world still towering over her. “This is going to take some getting used to.”

Lady Mary reaches forward again, her gloved fingers spread wide, trapping Anna like a butterfly in a net. The nimble digits weave around her waist and slip under her arms, surrounding her with cool, smooth fabric. It’s not at all like a hug; the glove lacks the human touch, is more statue than flesh, and Anna wonders if the larger woman can feel her at all. Mary’s grip turns to one of a loose fist, very loose in fact, which is presumably an attempt not strangle her. But as Mary’s hand slowly lifts off the ground, Anna realizes that this grip is not very secure and finds herself scrabbling for some sort of hold, lest she fall to the ground. She wraps her arms tightly around the large fingers, her own fingers digging into the expensive fabric. Mary seems blind to Anna’s distress, not tightening her fist or moving to support Anna whatsoever, instead just continuing to raise the shrunken woman higher, and then higher yet.

Anna is brought to a level just below Lady Mary’s face. The woman’s dark eyes explore Anna’s small form, inspecting her in a way that feels uncomfortably personal. It’s her right to do so. Who can blame the woman for being curious? It’s likely to be the first shrunken person she’s seen; as Mary has been kept strictly away from London during the epidemic. Perhaps there have been pictures in the newspaper, but it is something entirely different to experience it firsthand. Anna smiles uneasily and receives a tight smile in return. After this, Lady Mary’s gaze shifts thankfully away, to a spot somewhere over Anna’s head, and then she stands up.

It happens very fast. Anna’s stomach does flips as weightlessness floods her senses. There is probably some truth to that; she can’t imagine she weighs much of anything now. She forgets to breathe. And then she is coughing, gasping, and she doesn’t have a chance to get her bearings before Lady Mary starts walking, her loose fist held coolly out in front of her. The movements are jostling. Despite Anna’s full strength, she finds the silky fabric hard to hold onto and she feels as if she’s slipping. A drop to the floor from this height would probably kill her. Panicked, Anna begins to blindly fight for better purchase, clawing and squirming and trying to pull herself out of death’s grip. 

The fingers slide away from her, looser and looser until she slips right through their grasp. Falling! Anna doesn’t even have time to scream. But it’s a short fall; she’s in the air only a second before coming down into Lady Mary’s other hand. A flat plane, a field of luxuriously smooth fabric. She’s landed right in the center of the palm, impact easily absorbed by the springy cushion of flesh. Shaken, Anna can do nothing but look fearfully up at the larger woman’s face, which has taken on a disapproving frown.

“Really now,” Lady Mary complains, “I don’t _want_ to drop you, but if you don’t settle down, I can’t make any promises.”

“I’m sorry.” Anna gasps, too winded to confront Mary about why she’d been held like that in the first place. It doesn’t matter now, as long as she doesn’t do it again. The palm is much more secure than the fist, strangely enough. Despite there being nothing for Anna to hold onto, there are no empty spaces beneath her feet, and the curl of Mary’s fingers protect her from being able to look over the edge. Mary has reached her bedroom door now, but makes no effort to turn the handle, hesitating.

“Now that I think about it,” Mary looks down at Anna, and then up at the door in front of her, “I can’t exactly walk out of the house like this. Someone might see.” She’s right; their chances of getting downstairs and out of the castle-like house without either the family or any of the servants seeing are not very good. Mary stalks back into the bedroom, heading for the window to think. It’s a nice day; even if they make it outside, they are sure to run into townspeople out for a walk or in the gardens. The public finding out would be an outright disaster. Anna can only imagine the nasty things the paper would say, poking fun of either her or the family.

“I could hide away somewhere.” Anna suggests, “Maybe in your handbag.” Mary turns towards her dressing table upon the suggestion, peering dubiously down at a handbag she’d left out.

“I’m not sure that’s very safe.”

“I’ll be fine.” Truthfully, she does not very much like the idea of being stuffed into a purse, to be swung around and carried off like a smuggled artifact. There is no other choice, though, and of that they can both agree. Lady Mary looks worriedly down at Anna, who pretends not to notice, staring instead at the table. It’s almost flattering, to think that Mary does care about her wellbeing. “You must be to the hospital and back before dinner.”

“Oh, alright.” The larger woman finally agrees, understanding the urgency. She gently lowers her hand, a motion that reminds Anna of sledding down a large hill. Lady Mary seems reluctant to let Anna out of her grasp, hesitating before finally setting her hand down on the table. Anna, in contrast, is more than happy to escape the unnerving gloved surface, eager to get her feet back on solid ground. She jumps down to the hard surface and walks over to the black handbag that has been sitting out. It’s best to get it over with before she changes her mind.

Lady Mary holds the clasp of the handbag open and so Anna walks inside, allowing herself to be swallowed up by the dark fabric. The bag is empty, thankfully, but the heavy fabric is wildly confining. She has to push against it in order to trudge to the back corner, which will become the bottom once the handbag is lifted. Anna turns back towards the opening, now just a sliver of light, having been abandoned by Mary as she presumably had let it go in order to put on a coat.

“Ok, Milady.” Anna lowers herself a seated position, lest she be swept perilously off her feet when Mary picks the bag up. “Please just be careful.” Without further exchange, the walls of the purse close in around her, sheets of darkness trapping her within the folds as the familiar sensation of travel sets in. Being in the handbag is like being buried, or at least, it’s what Anna imagines being buried would be like. It’s too late to back out now, but oh, how she wants to. There’s neither a dignified nor comfortable thing about it.

The opening above her flutters wider, allowing in a flash of light and a rush of fresh air. Nearly blinded, Anna squints up at the blurry eyes of Lady Mary, who peers down at her blankly. She’s probably just making sure Anna’s alright. Anna almost laughs, struck by how quickly she’s grown accustomed to such an unusual sight. She doesn’t though, and then Mary’s eyes are blocked out by a hand, appearing at the opening with something in tow. It’s a tube of lipstick, Anna realizes, and she flinches, thinking it’s about to be dropped on her. Instead, it’s lowered delicately down beside her, its cold exterior against her skin enough to make her shiver. She thinks she might ask about it, but now Anna is beyond the point of questioning anything. The pair holds eye contact only a moment longer, until the opening closes back up with the snap of a clasp.

There is just darkness now, a cold, strange darkness. All outside sounds are completely blotted out by the walls of the handbag, leaving her with just the sound of her own breathing and the rustling of the fabric as the walls rub together. Even in the darkness, Anna closes her eyes. It brings her little comfort. The bag starts to swing, proof that at least now, the journey has begun. With any luck, it’ll be over quickly. Strong as Anna is, she doesn’t think she can stand this for very long.

. : ~ : .

Mary leaves her room, handbag clutched tightly in a white-knuckled fist. She’s trying to keep it as motionless as she can, for Anna’s sake, but to pull off the task she needs to look as natural as possible. She’d had to put a tube of lipstick in there, just to make the weight of the bag more convincing. Hopefully the experience isn’t too horrible. _Poor Anna_ , she thinks, unable to shake the memory of her newly shrunken maid quivering on the floor, confused and devastatingly small. What an unexpected twist to the evening. How easily she’d fit into Mary’s palm, her little hands helplessly grasping at Mary’s fingers. She might almost call it adorable, the way all small things are adorable. She’d even had a thought to see if Anna would fit into any of her niece’s dolls’ clothes; what a laugh that would be. But, of course, their first order of business is to make sure Anna is healthy. They’ll have time for fun and games in the months to come. 

Around the corner, down the stairs, almost to the front door. Mary has almost made a clean getaway when her name is called from a room to the left, freezing her in her tracks. It’s never that easy, is it? Mary sighs, turns to face the interloper.

“Granny,” Mary greets warily, forcing a smile onto her face, “I didn’t know you’d come over.”

“Well how could you? You’ve kept yourself locked away all day like some sort of devious clock winder.” Now what does that even mean? Normally, Mary would defend her actions, but she doesn’t have time to explain herself. Nor does she ask how Granny even knows where she’s been all day. The woman does seem to have a way of knowing things. Mary instead makes a quick apology and takes a step towards the door, but the old woman’s tongue is faster. “And just where are you off to at this hour?”

“I thought I’d go for a walk.” And then, “You wouldn’t want to join me, would you?”

“Oh, no! You young people and your walks. I’ve done quite enough walking for one lifetime, thank you.” Funny. Mary smiles again, mostly relieved to have shaken the company, and finally manages to slip out the front door. She half expects to be ambushed by another conversationalist but thankfully, the path is clear. It’s too risky to take a car, especially now that she’s just used the excuse of going out for a walk. The hospital isn’t too far, at least, but she’ll have to hurry to make it back in time for dinner. Mary makes haste down to town and, once at the hospital, darts directly into Doctor Clarkson’s office.

“Lady Mary,” He greets pleasantly, “What can I do for you today?”

“It’s a matter of some confidence; I’m afraid.” Mary can trust him—and by extension, the rest of the hospital staff—to keep this away from the newspapers. A longtime friend of the family, he’s always looked after their interests. It does help that their estate practically owns the hospital. 

“Of course. Are you quite well?”

“It’s my lady’s maid, Anna.” Mary unclasps her handbag and reaches inside. It doesn’t take long for her fingers to fish out the warm lump at the bottom. Doctor Clarkson is silent as Mary settles Anna into her open palm. The poor woman looks positively green, and Mary can only assume that it’s the ride in her handbag that has made her so seasick. Sitting weakly in her hand, Anna gulps the fresh air, her little chest heaving, hands grabbing at the folds of Mary’s glove.

“I see.” The doctor carefully says, eyes flicking between the two of them.

“No one else has been exposed.” Mary makes it clear that he doesn’t have to worry about any of the other members of her household. The epidemic hasn’t found its way to Downton, only to Anna, who can be contained. The falsity of her statement suddenly occurs to her. “That is, except me…” Anna’s head snaps around to look up at her, tiny eyes wide with the realization. Apparently neither of them had considered that Mary had been (and is still) exposed. Luckily, she hasn’t touched Anna with any bare skin, but suppose that doesn’t mean anything? Diseases are transmitted all sorts of ways. There is a flutter of panic inside her, a sort of life flashing in front of her eyes moment in which she sees herself shrinking, and the consequences of such. It would ruin her.

“We now believe it’s spread by blood-to-blood contact only.” Doctor Clarkson reassures, breaking Mary from her spiraling thoughts. He explains that the reason the epidemic has gotten so out of hand in London is merely a result of population density and poverty and a lack of human decency. Mary doesn’t need to be told why it’s so easy to come into contact with the blood of the infected there, and judging by the grimace on her friend’s face, neither does Anna.

Any further fears about Anna’s health are assuaged as Doctor Clarkson explains how resilient shrunken people are, how their survival is quite easy if left merely to natural forces. The science of it—having something to do with the density of a compacted body—is lost on Mary, but it’s reassuring all the same. And yet, despite the claims of increased survivability that Doctor Clarkson preaches, he thinks it is best to keep Anna in the hospital, where she can be supervised and be kept from potential harm.

“I quite agree.” It is only after she says it that she catches the unease in Anna’s expression, and Mary realizes that she’s spoken for her. Anna actually hasn’t said a word since they’ve arrived. Has she overstepped? As her employer, Mary has the final say regardless of Anna’s feelings on the matter. The smaller woman doesn’t argue, just stares down at Mary’s glove. It’s decided, then. 

Mary hands Anna off to Doctor Clarkson and settles the arrangements for her stay. She promises to visit—not tomorrow of course, she’ll be much too busy with Mama’s birthday for that—but soon. Before she knows it, Mary is walking back towards the house, the sun just starting to set over the beautiful English countryside. Her purse feels strangely empty.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh good, the fun chapter :) I don't usually break up my fic but it seemed like a natural pause. Enjoy!

The afternoon following Mama’s birthday, a few members of the family sit gathered in the library. Mama tells an amusing story about having alterations done, brought on by the revelation that the skirt Mary had bought her is about five times too large.

“I never got a chance to look at it,” Mary apologizes again, thoroughly annoyed that the store had gotten her order so wrong. Sure, it had been last minute, but that is no excuse for poor customer service. “It was wrapped by the time Anna got there.”

“How is Anna?” Mama changes the subject, “Is she feeling any better today?”

There had been no chance at completely hiding her maid’s disappearance, especially not from Mama. With Anna gone, Mary had been forced to ask for Baxter, Mama’s lady’s maid, to help her get ready for the party. Likewise at the end of the evening. This morning she’s gotten herself dressed, as annoying as it had been. Her hair, though much more manageable in the new bobbed style, always looks better when Anna does it. _We must all make sacrifices_ , she thinks, still unwilling to explain Anna’s true illness. She plans on letting them in on it in a few days, when she has a chance to post an ad for a new maid.

“I haven’t inquired.” It’s not a lie; she hasn’t. Doctor Clarkson had promised to ring if there are any changes, which aren’t expected. But of course, nobody else knows that Anna is even in the hospital. “It seemed rather awful. I don’t think she’ll be working for some time.”

“Oh dear, is it that serious?” Her kindhearted mother brings a hand up to her chest, worry coloring her expression.

“Isn’t it?” It’s Mary’s brother-in-law, Tom. The Irishman breaks away from his conversation with Papa over at the window and approaches the women. She hadn’t realized he’d been listening. Tom meets Mary’s eyes and she is surprised to find his cold, unwelcoming. Mary doesn’t trust herself to answer his question without giving anything away. “Well, she was in London, wasn’t she? And now she’s come down with something serious.”

“You don’t mean…” Mama looks inquisitively at Tom, and then at Mary. There is no question what he’s implying, Mary only wonders how he knows. Although, maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised. The epidemic has been on the front page of the newspaper for almost a month; maybe it’s simply the first thing on everyone’s mind. Mary frowns, holding eye contact with Tom. There is no point in denying his assumptions; the truth has a way of coming out despite her wishes. At least this way, she isn’t the one to have broken it. “How awful!” Her mother gasps, “Poor Anna; she does have the worst luck.”

“Dreadful news,” Papa adds, turning towards them from the window, “Bates will be devastated.” Perhaps. But it isn’t like the woman is _dead_ , Mary thinks sourly. There is no need to get so worked up about it. It will be an adjustment, that’s all. Life will go on.

“Why’d you do it?” There is an accusatory note to Tom’s question, which has been speared right at her.

“Do what?” Mary counters, her brows furrowing.

“She would never have gone into town unless _you_ asked her to.” Tom’s voice raises angrily, “I’ll bet you didn’t give her any choice in it. You put her into danger and now her life is ruined. I hope it was worth it.”

“Ruined? Don’t be dramatic; she’s perfectly healthy.” This blame is entirely unfair; how was Mary to know that Anna would get infected? Even in this epidemic, people healthily came and went from London all the time. She’d had no choice; _someone_ had to go and pick up the package. She wouldn’t have wanted to risk spoiling Mama’s birthday. “Besides, I suffer for it too. Do you know how impossible it is to find a decent lady’s maid these days? I’ll be searching for a replacement for months.”

“I can’t believe you.” Tom shakes his head and then storms off. Mary watches him leave, rattled. She knows it hadn’t been the most tactful thing to say, but it’s the truth. And she refuses to take any fault in the matter. Left there with just her parents, Mary can taste the judgement swirling around the air. Her eyes sweep the room, challenging either one of them to start their attack too.

“Is Anna still here?” Mama asks, diverting the conversation to one of concern, rather than blame. They know better than to argue with someone as stubborn as she. “I have to admit, I’m curious.”

“I took her to Doctor Clarkson after it happened.”

“As you should have.” Agreeing, Papa comes to join the pair of them. “We wouldn’t want to put George or Sybbie at risk, let alone the rest of us.” The reminder of the danger to Mary’s son (or her niece) is not a welcome one. George is all she has left of her beloved Matthew—may he rest in peace—and it is hard enough not to worry about the child’s safety during average times. While the idea of a tiny, pocket-sized George is adorable, it is decidedly not what she wants for him.

“Surely she doesn’t have to stay at the hospital.” Mama continues with a frown, “Wouldn’t it be easier to look after her ourselves?” Easier, harder, Mary doesn’t think there is any difference. It isn’t like any of _them_ are going to be involved with the ‘looking after’ anyways, as rich as it is to say plainly. At least in the hospital, the burden of care is removed from Downton’s shoulders. If anything goes wrong, if anyone forgets to get Anna breakfast or something of that sort, there will be someone else to blame. At an impasse, their conversation turns elsewhere. The day ticks on.

That evening, as Mary is brushing her own hair, she thinks of Anna. Anna, alone and tiny, hidden away in the hospital, her fate uncertain. Though, all of their fates are uncertain, if she wants to get poetic about it. Mary thinks unwittingly about that white flash of panic, at the hospital when she’d thought she might have been infected. _It would ruin me_ , she’d thought. It would be the end of her, and yet, what had she reasoned about Anna’s life being ‘ruined’? Get over it, more or less. Oh. Maybe Tom had a point. Mary has stolen away Anna’s life and then locked her away so that no-one has to think about it.

The truth of it is, no matter how many great scientists work on a cure, there may never be one. Anna might never be restored. She might never get to be a mother—something that Anna has confessed she wants more than anything. She might never again taste Mrs. Patmore’s famous raspberry meringue, or play a carnival game at the fair, or walk through the gardens, or take the train to the seaside, or dance or work or _live_ again, at least, not in any meaningful way. Her whole future, gone in an instant. The price of loyalty.

An inky weight settles in her chest, something that Mary recognizes bitterly as guilt. She’s tried to be a good friend, a kind employer, but kindness does not easily come to her. Many times, she manages to be a downright heartless monster, and perhaps this is no exception. It _had_ been selfish to send Anna to London in her place. She’ll apologize, of course, but what else can be done? In this case, saying sorry is not enough, does not excuse the horrible thing that she has done. Mary would normally confide in Anna about this sort of thing, would ask for advice from someone who truly does have a good heart. So what would Anna say? Mary tries to hear Anna’s voice, but all that comes to her is an ache in the back of her head, a spot where sad blue eyes had watched Mary walk away.

One thing becomes very clear: if Anna is to have any shot at a happy life, she can’t spend it cooped up in the hospital. They are more than capable of taking care of her and at least she’ll be surrounded by friends. It’s not so simple, though; Doctor Clarkson may not be so easily convinced to let his most interesting patient go. She’ll have to go about it in a more underhanded way. Lying awake in bed, Mary devises a foolproof plan. It’s the least she can do.

. : ~ : .

“Mrs. Bates?” The curtain shrouding Anna’s makeshift bed—hidden away in a corner of a storeroom—is pulled back, revealing one of the nurses. Anna looks towards her warily. The hospital staff has been distant during her stay, but kind. Of course they are busy taking care of the actual sick and injured patients, but she’s used to having so much more social interaction. It’s only been, what, only a day and a half? Already she’s getting so bored she can barely stand it. No one to talk to, no work she can busy herself with, not even a book small enough for her to read. And of course she misses her husband; really, she misses all of them. Therefore, it is some thrill when the nurse continues with, “You have a visitor.”

Anna opens her mouth, meaning to ask who it is, but the nurse closes back the curtain without further conversation. _It must be John_ , she thinks, nervous at the prospect. It’ll be hard for him to see her this way. She had been hoping to have thought up a way to ease his mind by now, but the news of her illness has gotten out quicker than she’d anticipated. Secrets are not something Lady Mary holds onto very tightly; she should have known better. It isn’t long before two sets of footsteps approach her isolation area.

“She’s just in there.” The nurse says, and then walks away. The curtain opens once more.

“Lady Mary!” Anna straightens, surprised at the visitor.

“Good morning, Anna.” There is a tight smile, and the amusement of the situation does not slip by Anna. Usually it’s the other way around; Mary lounging around in bed and Anna coming in to greet her. “I expect you’re being treated well.”

“Very well, Milady.” It isn’t really a _lie_. It isn’t as if they’ve treated her _poorly_. Loneliness is hardly cause for complaint.

“Not too well, I hope.” Ah. Anna catches her meaning.

“I’m very much looking forward to getting out of here, when I’m allowed. _If_ I’m allowed, that is.” It will likely be at least another month, as there have been promises of tests to be run and medical interviews to be conducted. Now that they have such a fascinating case on their hands, they won’t let her go easily.

“That’s just what I’m here about, as a matter of fact. If there’s nothing more Doctor Clarkson can do for you, I see no reason you should have to be kept here. I’m going to break you out.” Break out? My, that’s a thrilling concept. Anna has never been much of a rule-breaker. She’d served her wrongful imprisonment without any thought of escape—the law would set her free, she’d repeated to herself. And it had. This isn’t prison, though. There’s no sentence to serve, no promise that they’ll _ever_ let her leave on her own terms.

“Alright,” Anna smiles, hope simmering inside her chest for the first time since she’s been afflicted. Why not break out? If they get caught, Lady Mary will protect her; Lady Mary will think of something to say to excuse them, like the privileged are often able to do. “I assume you have a plan?”

“Of course I have a plan, o ye of little faith.” Hearing Lady Mary crack jokes lifts Anna’s mood significantly. She hadn’t realized how much she’d missed real interaction. Mary offers out an open palm. Despite not knowing the plan, Anna climbs onto the gloved hand. There’s no time for hesitation if they want to get away without one of the nurses catching them. “You do trust me, don’t you?”

“With my life.” The truth is somewhere in between trust and a lack of it. She does trust Lady Mary with a number of things, but Mary is also known to have made a number of poor—to the amount of extreme damage—decisions. Decisions that call her judgement into question. After all, she’d sent Anna straight into the heart of an epidemic just to pick up a birthday gift. And yet, Anna has no choice but to trust Mary. Her life _is_ in the other woman’s hands.

“Good, I’m glad we have that settled. You’re safe with me, Anna.” Her eyes are kind, and there is a rush of fondness for the woman she’s served for so many years. Neither one of them have very many other friends.

Anna is brought once again up to Mary’s face, closer this time, so much so that it seems Anna could reach out and touch her. Mary looks down at Anna with a sort of hesitation, the reason for which Anna cannot discern. There’s something she wants to say, maybe, and she has brought Anna up to whisper it, so no one might overhear. Anna waits, but the seconds hang in the air, a static sort of silence between them. It’s a strange thing, being so close. To see the dusting of makeup on her pale skin, the slight smudge of her left eyeliner, the fallen eyelash on her cheek. Anna can smell Mary’s lipstick, candy-sweet, perfumed in the new way that they are. Her breath blows softly across Anna’s face, warm and not unpleasant. Lady Mary’s lips part, like she might finally speak, but then they close again.

Mary’s free hand comes up and pinches Anna’s waist between her thumb and forefinger. She doesn’t fight it, but it’s only a second too late that Anna realizes she is to be picked up this way. The palm falls away, leaving her hanging between only two fingers. She gasps, the pressure firm and uncomfortable. Anna risks a glance downwards, which is a mistake, as the distance from the floor is enough to take her breath clean away. The hand moves and Anna looks up just in time to see she is being brought to Mary’s widening mouth, a flash of white teeth giving way to a dark, damp cavern. Anna’s heart beats a little quicker, a primordial instinct flaring up, telling her to run, to scream, to-

Anna is shoved between pink lips, suddenly engulfed in that very wet darkness. She finds herself lying on top of Lady Mary’s plush tongue, the tiny little bumps combing across her skin. A dreadful thought: can Mary _taste_ her? The fingers release Anna and disappear, though her relief about this is tempered by the thought that they may have been her only lifelines. The shock of where she has just gone stuns her for a moment, disbelief rattling her senses. The larger woman takes advantage of Anna’s stillness and pushes her in further, her body sliding a little too easily along the slippery muscle. She’s not going to stop, Anna realizes, as her entire form is thrust inside.

“Milady, no!” Anna cries out fearfully, finding herself suddenly in a very frantic situation. How can Lady Mary do something like this? It must be most convenient for the family if she disappears before the news of her shrinking gets out. That’s the only explanation she can muster. It will be a very easy disappearance, no trace left behind that any sensible detective would follow. It’s now a fight for her life. “Mary!” She kicks, she scratches, she twists and tries to turn and do anything in her power to be spat out. She isn’t. Darkness falls as Mary’s lips close, sealing Anna inside her tomb. Ahead of her, the drop-off beckons cruelly. Air whistles through the back of the giant throat as Mary breathes through her nose, the air sucked forcefully down the tunnel that Anna so desperately doesn’t want to follow. 

The tongue beneath Anna bucks, crushing her to the roof of Lady Mary’s mouth. Against the plushy muscle, held this tight, there is no way to move, no way to beg for her life. Even breathing is difficult, her chest expanding against the bumpy surface with some difficulty. A frustrated exhaustion washes over Anna as she realizes how powerless she is against any ounce of Mary’s strength. What’s the point in resisting? Anna has seen that she can’t do anything to hurt even the softest spots of the larger woman’s mouth. And anyways, angering Mary can only hurt Anna. She’s not alone in here; there are teeth which Mary can use if she wishes. Anna shudders as she imagines herself pinned instead between the larger woman’s molars, their sharp edges cutting into her skin. The force of Mary’s mighty jaw grinding Anna to a pulp with no more difficulty than a carrot. It’s not a very pleasant thought. Anna can’t silence the images of bloodshed coursing through her mind, not like when she’d imagined being squished, because clearly Mary is not above violence. The teeth would mean a quick death at least. Painful, yes, but not as painful as writhing to death in the pit of her stomach, Anna’s life slowly melting away in a sea of agony. Now that she thinks about it, the teeth are much preferred to being swallowed alive. Maybe she should hope for that sort of kind cruelty.

Anna isn’t lucky enough for the kindness of a quick death. Mary’s tongue pushes her deeper inside, draws her to a point in which her body is being held only by her thighs and lower abdomen. The rest of her dangles down, nothing to hold onto, nothing to do but stare down Mary’s throat. Eyes adjusted to the darkness, Anna can see down into this abyss, the dark pink flesh waggling eagerly, waiting for her. Cold air rushes past her, down into the depths, and then warm air rises back up, blowing roughly past Anna’s face. Her body slides forward, centimeter by centimeter.

“No…” Anna pleads softly, though she is fairly certain it’s too late. Even Lady Mary would not play this kind of joke, would not draw her back at the last second and spit her out into a palm and laugh at the manufactured distress. At long last, the tongue loosens and the pressure eases from Anna’s legs. The giant head tilts back so that Anna easily slides face-first down Mary’s throat. This is followed by a swift gulp, a wet, sickening sound that reverberates through the tube in which she is trapped. The tube narrows around Anna, surrounding her with slick, spongy muscle which squeezes her and pushes her deeper into Lady Mary’s digestive system.

She descends. It’s actually nothing like a fall, though Anna is positioned nearly vertical, her arms pinned uncomfortably at her sides. Rather, it is a controlled descent, the muscles slowly working to move her along. It’s maybe even a difficult descent, as she can hear Lady Mary swallow several times in an attempt to get Anna down.

Through the blood rushing in her own ears, Anna hears a different thumping. She’s passing through the center of Mary’s chest, and with it, she is passing the woman’s heart. The rhythm is steady, pounding away with such a heavy thud that it rattles the flesh around her, shaking Anna along with it. It is so loud, so encompassing, that she can feel the sound in her ribs the way one feels a boom of thunder. The tube is at its tightest here, but Anna is squeezed along after only a moment of difficulty. The sound grows more distant and more bearable. Soon she is pushed through a tight ring of muscle and suffers a short freefall, coming colliding down on a spongy surface beneath her. It absorbs her impact with a muddled splat, wobbling like a gelatin dessert. This is it, then. She’s in Lady Mary’s stomach.

Anna lays dazed for a moment, trying to adjust to this new dark cavern. It’s more spacious than the mouth had been, but also much more humid, the air stuffy and warm with a pervasive wetness that seeps into her already soaked dress. She can still hear Mary’s heart, but it is muffled to mere background noise now, the regularity of the rhythm like the drums of war. There is a deep whooshing that, after a moment, she realizes is the sound of Mary breathing. Anna can hardly imagine the size of those lungs, the amount of air passing through with each rotation. It’s an indication once again of just how small she is now, dropped down inside another person. Yes, so very small and entirely helpless, now at the mercy of her friend’s natural processes.

Her friend. Should she still think of Lady Mary as that, even after what she’s done? Oh, what does it matter now, anyways. Anna stays where she’s fallen and she waits to start dying. It shouldn’t be long now before she gets broken to bits, or whatever it is that stomachs do. Tears prick at her eyes as she tries to push the thoughts of herself being turned to mush away. She wants her last thoughts to be happy ones. And yet, death doesn’t come. Moments pass—they must only be seconds, but to her they feel like hours—and still, there is no pain, no agony. The heart beats on.

“Well that was hardly pleasant for me, so I can’t imagine what it was like for you.” Words, tumbling over each other, bouncing around the soft walls of Mary’s stomach. Her voice is deeper from the inside. The whole cavern hums each syllable along with her. Anna closes her eyes, curls into herself. She doesn’t want to hear about how Mary liked eating her, even if it is to express distaste. Good! Let her have a bad time with it. “Anna?” This time, there is a twist of worry in Mary’s tone, her voice quieter. “Are you feeling alright?”

“Alright?” Anna snaps back, before she can hold her tongue, “How could I be?”

“Oh god, I haven’t hurt you, have I?”

“I reckon you will any minute now!” There’s an unsettling silence. Now that she’s gotten used to the louder, overpowering sounds, Anna can hear the more minute details. Specifically, she can hear the churning and squelching of the intestines somewhere below her. They gurgle away, chewing on some previous meal, an uncomfortable reminder of the life continuing around her. Continuing as it will even after she dies, after this body digests her, after she’s the one being carted away down there.

“Dearest Anna, you don’t think…” There is a large intake of breath, and then a long exhale. “No wonder you’re so upset. Doctor Clarkson assured that you’re much too compact to be harmed. Don’t you remember?” Anna tries to remember. She’d been present during the doctor’s explanations, of course, but that whole day had been so overwhelming. She hadn’t cared at the time to know all the details.

“Maybe.” But what reason does Mary have to lie to her now? Anna has already been captured, surely Mary wouldn’t care to give Anna hope if there is none. She must be telling the truth. Anna is safe. Safe in a very strange situation, but unharmed all the same. The fear evaporates, Anna’s trust in Mary overriding what someone might call common sense.

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew. Please don’t be angry with me; I’m only trying to help.”

“Well, it’s not what I was expecting when you said you were going to break me out. I imagine we’re going to have quite the laugh about this someday.” Anna slowly pulls herself up to a sitting position, struggling to find purchase on the stretchy surface. Her weight sinks into it wherever she tries to go; there’s not a firm platform anywhere.

“Oh!” The muscles momentarily stiffen around her as Lady Mary gasps, “What an odd sensation.”

“You can feel that?” Anna freezes. She hadn’t thought about being… perceived. 

“More than you probably think. But please, don’t stop on my account; make yourself quite comfortable in there.” It’s a strange direction, but Anna does exactly that, resting tentatively against the nearest wall. Now that she’s relaxed a little, the place is a lot more comfortable than she originally gave it credit for. The warmth is soothing, much more so than the cold confines of the handbag had been. And the walls are softer than any of the furniture Anna has in her own cottage. It might be a very nice spot to take a nap. As she’s settling, Mary’s stomach contracts, squeezing at Anna and producing a loud growl.

“I hope you’re not hungry.” Anna laughs, only half-kidding.

“Don’t let me bully you,” Mary’s chuckle comes as a deep rumbling all around Anna as she apologizes for the rough treatment, “Give me a hard time right back if I get too bothersome.”

“I will.” She won’t.

“Now I really must be going, before someone notices me talking to myself. Hang on, I’ll get us back to the house before you know it.”

. : ~ : .

Oh, Anna, what it must be like to be the lump inside someone’s stomach. Mary can’t imagine she’d like it at all, wet and cramped as it must be in there. But to her maid’s credit, she is handling it quite well. Very well, actually, considering she hadn’t understood at first the safety of it. Anna hadn’t even screamed. Mary likes to think that she would have put up a bit more of a fuss if she’d thought in earnest that she was going to be made someone’s breakfast, but then, Anna is never one to make a fuss, is she? The poor thing is still quivering; Mary can feel the tiny trembles even as they die down. It hadn’t been her intention to scare her like that. Mary hadn’t wanted to tell her outright; never mind the awkwardness of such a statement, she hadn’t wanted to risk someone overhearing it. Maybe she should have done anyways. Oh well. They’ll be alright.

Mary brings a hand to her belly and presses against it as if she might feel Anna’s small form through her skin. She can’t, of course, but still she traces light fingers against the area, trying to wrap her head around the idea that she’s just swallowed a person. A whole person, and with not the slightest indication that’s she’s done so. Should an outsider stumble upon her, they won’t suspect a thing. She’s a living Trojan horse.

Anna squirms inside of her, shifting around again to get comfortable, and Mary has to put in a great deal of effort not to giggle. It’s like being tickled in a spot unable to be reached. The little movements cause her stomach to growl hungrily, though not so aggressively this time—they’re subsiding as her body gets used to having the indigestible mass locked within. She’d had to skip breakfast this morning; Mary doubts that Anna would have been so forgiving if she’d found herself landed in that sort of mess. Look at her, sacrificing her own comfort for someone else’s sake. Well, at least it’s only until lunch, by which time their scheme will hopefully have been successful. Mary can only hope that her innards are not too rough on Anna in the meantime.

Stowaway in tow, Mary leaves the supply closet and heads for the front door of the hospital. She’s almost made it out when they swish open and Mama walks in. _Oh good_ , Mary thinks sourly, an _obstacle._ Why is it that doors have become so difficult to get through?

“Mary!” Mama greets, cheery as ever, “Now this _is_ a surprise. What are you doing here?”

“I came to see Anna.”

“Of course. We should ask Doctor Clarkson if we can’t have her at the house.” How very considerate. Mary agrees with this idea, or she would have, if she hadn’t already taken matters into her own hands. She means to protest, but here mother continues before she can get a word out. “I was just going to see him now. I’m sure together we can persuade him.” Mary absolutely does not want to sit down and have a nice chat with the doctor, whom she is currently stealing from. However, she doesn’t have a reputation for being flighty. To make matters worse, Mama knows Mary doesn’t have any plans for today, so Mary can’t even rush off to some imaginary appointment.

And so Mary has no choice but to agree, trudging after her mother into Doctor Clarkson’s office and striking up what would in normal circumstances be a perfectly pleasant conversation. She had hoped it would only be a short exchange, but the conversation turns to business regarding the estate, which unfortunately does concern her. And then, after _that_ business is concluded, Mama is eager to discuss hospital matters, and the charming doctor seems to not have anything better to do today. There’s no escape in sight. Mary swirls the tea in her hand with frustration, listening absently for a chance to break away. The tea the doctor has provided is warm and smells nice, but for Anna’s sake she doesn’t dare drink it, instead occasionally feigning small sips. Mostly she just moves the cup between her hands. She can only get away with this ruse for so long before one of the others notice.

“Doctor!” A nurse comes frantically bursting into the room, “It’s Mrs. Bates, Sir. I can’t find her anywhere!”

“Can’t find her?” The man stands, and with him, so do Mary and Mama. Damn. She’d hoped that she would have more time than this. “My god, where on this earth could-”

“Someone’s probably just taken her out for a walk. There’s no need to panic.” Mary cuts in, not wanting to see anyone get worked up over it. She’s glad to see that Anna is missed, but the last thing she needs is for this to turn into a national manhunt. Doctor Clarkson meets her eyes, understanding creeping over his expression.

“That’s not a very good idea.” He says slowly, “She’s much safer here at the hospital, where we can look after her progress.” The doctor glances at Mary’s handbag, something of an idea flashing through his eyes. “May I examine your bag before you go?”

“What ever are you implying?” Mama asks, though Mary curtly hands it over. He’s seen her carry Anna like this once before, so it’s only natural that he suspects she might try it again. This is precisely why she’s been forced to tuck Anna somewhere different. Doctor Clarkson’s search comes up empty, of course, and he sheepishly gives the handbag back, apologizing.

“I’m sure Mrs. Bates is in safe hands.” That is, a safe stomach. Mary fights the urge to cradle hers, as if to protect Anna from prying eyes. “I don’t know how you’ve done it. Just bring her back when the cure comes around.” Doctor Clarkson shakes his head, relenting. There are bigger battles for him to fight and surely he can sleep easy knowing Anna is at least with friends.

Victory at last. This calls for some celebration. Mary picks up her cup of tea, which she’d set on Doctor Clarkson’s desk when the nurse had burst in. _Sorry, Anna_ , she thinks (only somewhat regretfully) as she takes a long gulp of the beverage. There is a flutter in her belly as the tea washes down, Anna being taken by surprise as she is met with company. Mary has to again stifle a laugh at the strange feeling of movement as Anna begins skittering around to avoid being splashed. Mary is going to owe the woman at least a favor or two after this.

. : ~ : .

The tea is still warm as it pools around Anna. The unusual bath comes up almost to the level of her hips as she sits, and she hopes it doesn’t get much higher than that. She’s moved herself away from the spot at the top of the cavern where it keeps rushing in but the churning of Mary’s stomach makes being sloshed unavoidable. Anna had been caught completely unaware when the first of it had been swallowed. There had been an unidentifiable wet noise somewhere above her, so she’d absently looked up. And then she’d promptly taken a wave of tea directly to her face. Anna had been much more comfortable before the tea had arrived, but seeing as she’s only a guest here, she supposes she can’t really complain.

It does seem rude to listen in on a conversation she hasn’t been invited to. Although Lady Mary’s stomach is fairly soundproof, Anna catches snippets of their exchange. Soft, incomprehensible syllables and peals of laughter, cut in with pointed remarks from her host. It had sounded like they were even talking about her at one point. Has someone discovered that she’d gone missing? In that moment, Mary’s heartbeat had sped up and the other voices had turned sharper, but then the tea had come and everything had seemed to calm down.

Mary starts walking again, the liquid in her belly sloshing around the dark cavern. Anna slips around, almost falling over entirely before she realizes trying to fight the movement is futile. She lets herself be rocked with the natural movement, the gentle sway of each step, a rhythm that Mary probably isn’t even aware of. Anna can hear each muffled footstep—even as catlike as the larger woman can be—each a small little thud against the hard floor of the hospital.

“Thank you for all of your help, doctor.” Mary says. They’re leaving! It’s a bit of a thrill to realize that they’ve gotten away with their little scheme. Lady Mary takes them onward, talking idly with her mother as they go.

“…Anna?” Anna picks up the sound of her own name through the walls of flesh and she straightens, suddenly straining to hear what is being said about her.

“You said it yourself; we can’t leave her at the hospital, not when we’re perfectly capable of having her at the house.” Her host reasons, “I’m sure she’ll turn up right under our noses.” Yes, under Lady Mary’s nose indeed, Anna smiles. Hopefully they’ll never have to reveal how the escape act was performed; it would be quite the thing to try to explain. “I just feel so terrible about all of this; I never should have asked her into London in the first place. I do hope she’ll forgive me.”

“Oh, of course I do.” Anna reassures, running a hand over the nearest wall in what she hopes is a comforting gesture. It’s true that Mary put Anna at risk, but it hadn’t been out of malice. It won’t do either of them any good to hold a grudge over it.

Mary continues towards home. Her steps seem a little lighter, Anna’s air a little easier to breathe. There is relief in having reached an understanding, a relief in safety, and a relief in the type companionship that is strengthened through a terrible ordeal. Anna lets herself drift into a sort of daydream state. Being small won’t be _so_ terrible. It will be an adjustment, sure, and she’ll feel bad for not being able to work, but she’ll manage. They’ll all manage. Anna closes her eyes and listens to the beating of Lady Mary’s heart and _yes_ , she thinks, there is a relief in knowing that her life is valued enough to protect, enough to take risks for. It is more than enough to make even a tiny life still worth living.


End file.
